My Billion Dollar Babysitter
by thestorieswekeep
Summary: A/U: 26 year old America Singer is in need of a job. And quick. Lucky for her, Billionaire Maxon Schreave is in need of a babysitter for his 6 month old son. And quick. When paths cross and fates collide, both people find themselves in a position they'd never expect, with feelings they never knew they harbored, and a secret that could end them. *Strong use of language.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hello! So this is an A/U (Alternate Universe) where Ill** **éa is not a Country. It pretty much takes place in present time, so there is no Selection, or Castes, or anything of the sort. America Singer is 26 years old, and lives with her two younger siblings, as well as her mother. Shalom Singer died when America was 17 due to heart disease, just like in the book.**

 **I am using the same Provinces as the book(s) though, so those will replace the States. Just a little note so that you won't be confused. Lastly, this story is rated "T" due to language. Nothing major. Anyways, that's pretty much it. I hope you all enjoy! Thank you!**

 ***** DISCLAIMER: I do not own the _'Selection Series'_ or any of the characters in the books. The only thing that I own is the plot. All credit goes to Kiera Cass. Thank you.**

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Prologue

The car was silent, me awkwardly sitting in the passenger seat as my older brother Kota drove me back to my apartment. Hot air blew into the car as the heater warmed both of our bodies.

It was chilly tonight. With the dark roads and empty streets, I couldn't help but think that the city couldn't have looked more desolate. It was ironic, really. In many other cities, the streets were still busy with cars and people, regardless of the time.

Not over here, though. The empty streets of Carolina were a familiar thing to me. I was never afraid of driving back home in the wee hours of the morning, the little lamp-posts serving as my only source of light. I actually quite liked it. The drive was quiet; relaxing.

It was peaceful, and probably the only time I truly ever got to think. Tonight though, was different from all of the others. This time, I was actually scared of driving out into the night with the dim lamp-posts lighting our way.

 _Why_ , you ask? Well, because I wasn't the one driving.

Kota, as always, was yapping into his phone, arguing about something that had to do with the sculpture he was supposed to finish by the end of the month. He was more focused on the conversation he was having instead of driving.

I could barely make out any part of their conversation, though. My eyes were trained on the road, hands clenching the side of my seat in fear of getting into an accident.

Kota continued to talk on the phone, arms flailing all over the place as he tried to make a point, probably unaware of the fact that the other person can't see him. Oh, how I wished he would just hang up and focus on _actually driving._ It was almost as if he wanted us to get hit by a car.

I contemplated telling him that, but thought against it at the last minute. Kota went out of his way to pick me up from work, which was pretty huge considering the fact that we seldom ever saw him. He practically left the family, only coming back when he needed things we had.

The last time I saw him was about four months ago. When I called him up earlier in need of a ride back home, I literally peed myself when he agreed. This was, quite literally, a monumental moment. Kota never did anything for other people. So then why was he doing this for me?

The sound of Kota cursing into the phone coaxed me out of my thoughts. The first thing I did was check the street, my eyes making sure that there were no cars close by, because Kota's eyes certainly weren't looking. Once it was all clear, I turned towards Kota, listening in on the last few moments of his conversation.

"Yeah, well I said I'd have it done by the end of the month. What do you mean you want it by next week? Are you _fucking_ kidding me? No, I agreed to have it done by twentieth, not the fifth. What do I want? An extra grand, that's what. Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. Okay, well then it's settled. I expect my money by Friday. Yeah, yeah, nice doing business with you, too."

Kota rolled his eyes, hanging up and throwing his phone in my direction. Startled, I hurried to catch it before it fell, hitting my head on the head-board in the process.

I groaned as I sat up, putting his phone in the cup-holder next to him. Kota glanced my way before looking back to the road, though I can tell he wasn't really paying attention to it.

"Sorry", he grumbled, turning left on the next street. I winced when he didn't use his signal light.

"It's fine", I lied. I could tell he wasn't really sorry.

After a few moments of quiet, Kota finally decided to break the silence.

"So what's wrong with your car, anyway?"

"It needs an oil change."

"Well, shit", he responded, chuckling to himself. I mentally glared in his direction. "Ames, you do know that you could've gotten your oil-changed during the day and gone to pick it up afterwards."

"I was working an extra shift today. I didn't get out until twelve. The shop closes at 10:30 P.M. You know that." I replied.

"Why are you working an extra shift anyway? You have like, five other jobs."

"Well, who's going to pay for my rent, or May's art school, or Gerad's sports-equipment, or Mom's meds? Because it sure as hell isn't you," I snapped, seriously wishing that he would just drop the subject.

Kota turned to face me, twisting around in his seat. "Woah, sorry, Lil' sis. Gees, calm down."

"This is calm, and you're not sorry. Now shut the hell up and keep your eyes on the road."

He smirked, turning forward once again. I mentally braced myself for round 2 of this conversation. I knew it was far from over.

...I was right...

 _"Sometimes, I just don't get you, America._ "

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. I was going on the defensive. "I could say the same thing about you."

He chuckled loudly, shaking his head. "All I'm saying is that I don't understand why you still put up with this shit. You're _twenty tw-_ "

" _Twenty six._ "

He paused. "Twenty _six,_ and you're still living with mom and the kids. Live a little, sis. Spread your wings; be free."

I let go of the sides of my seat, clenching my fists in fury. "Are you kidding me?"

Kota shrugged nonchalantly. I could tell he was enjoying this.

"So you're telling me that because I am twenty six, I should just up and leave my family, just like you did all those years ago? I'm practically the only thing they've got left, Kota. Ever since dad died..." I winced, trying to fight off the tears that I could tell were seconds away from falling.

I looked outside of the window, seeing the bridge that overlooked the lake. There were no lamp posts or street lights in this area. At least I knew we were close. Taking a deep breath, I tried to get it together.

 _We're almost there..._

"I'm all they have left. Kenna is busy with her family. Sure, she sends checks every month to help out, but I can't bother her with our financial needs. She's got a baby to take care of. And you...do you even care?"

"Believe it or not, America, I do. Really. But I've got a life to live, too. I don't have time to take care of anyone. This industry is tough. My job is hard. You wouldn't know though, America. You've never had a real job before."

I glared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just saying that a couple of waitressing jobs is nothing close to a real one, that's all. And that dream of yours? What was it, to open up your own piano bar? Now that's just ludicrous. You've got no real shot at this, America. Wake up. You won't be able to support anyone for long with what you're doing right now. You and I both know that."

"Shut the hell up, Kota. I've been doing the same thing for the past nine years. It still hasn't failed me yet." I said, gritting my teeth.

"But we both know that one day, it's not going to be enough. May is going to need money for more than just art school. Gerad is going to want to participate more in sports. Mom's health condition is going to get worse. And then you'll be out of money. You'll come crawling to me, begging me to help you."

 _"Stop the car."_ The tears were falling freely now.

"You'll owe plenty of money. You will lose your apartment. You'll have nowhere else to go."

" _Shut up."_

"And you'll never succeed. You'll never get what you want. You won't make it."

" _Stop the car._ "

"And then I'll be here. I know that I'll be the one who'll have to pick up the pieces!" He was no longer looking at the road anymore. Kota's eyes were locked on mine as I scrambled to unbuckle my seat belt and open the door. "That's what always happen, America. You're going to fail."

"Let me out, Kota. Pull over and let me out." I was scared now. I felt the car go faster rather than slow, Kota pressing down on the gas pedal.

"You need to wake up, America. They aren't worth it."

 _"Kota..."_ The street was no longer empty.

"They're ungrateful. You're so much better without them."

 _"Kota..."_ It was getting closer, now.

"You don't need them! You hear me? You don't need them!"

 _"KOTA, THE CAR!"_

He turned to face the road as the head lights grew brighter and brighter. Our car swerved, Kota's last attempt to keep us from falling off of the bridge.

I screamed as the car collided with the other; shards of glass shattering all around us. My head hit the dash board, the result of me taking me seat belt off. The airbags deployed, but it didn't help.

Red was all I could see. That, and stars, too. At least they looked like stars. Were they stars?

I touched my forehead, feeling something damp and sticky on it. _What was that smell?_

I squinted, trying to register my surroundings. Looking to my left, I saw Kota sitting in the drivers seat, clenching the wheel. His lips were moving, his arm movements frantic as he tried to tell me something.

I couldn't hear him though. My ears were buzzing. I couldn't hear anything.

Then, I felt the car begin to move.

Kota put the car in reverse, making a massive u-turn and driving the other way. He drove fast; frantic in panic.

I tried to do something. I tried to open my mouth and tell him to stop; to turn around and help the other person in the car.

I couldn't though. I couldn't do anything. I was fading; I could feel it. My mind was swimming, and I felt my eyes closing.

I turned my head one last time, looking back to the bridge. The last thing I saw was the small, black totaled car; crushed and alone in the desolate road.

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 **A/N: So that was the Prologue. I hope that you enjoyed it! The next few chapters will really go into the main story line; this was sort of just a place holder of sorts. Please review and let me know what you think! Did you enjoy it? Would you like to read more? Let me know! Thank you!**


	2. Chapter 2

*****Important Note: Mom, dad. I'm sorry. Kids, do not say any of the four-letter words that start with the letter _S_ or _F._ Parents...blame it on the coffee.**

 **A/N: Thank you so, SO much to everyone who reviewed, faved, and followed this story, as well as any of the readers who are taking the time to read this. It literally means so much, but the number of reviewers I have aren't important to me. I just love to write! Thanks so much again, though!**

 **So this chapter flashes forward to three months later. I explained in the prologue that it would be sort of a place holder of sorts, and that it wouldn't be mentioned in the chapters after it. It's weird, but I promise, the events that occurred in the prologue are woven into the story in some way. You'll just have to stick around long enough to find out, so just go with the flow.**

 **I'll also have to warn you. Extreme sarcasm and rants will be ever present in the story, and the cursing is frequent. The characters are also OOC.**

 ****Disclaimer: I do not own _The Selection Series_. All credit goes to Kiera Cass. Also, there is a part in the chapter mentioning something about dressing like life is a party. After reading that section, just know that I don't mean it.**

 **Without further ado, here's chapter one. Enjoy!**

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 _3 Months Later_

" _Please, America!"_

"No."

 _"Please, please, PLEASE!"_

 _"_ I'm not doing it."

 _"Pretty, pretty please with a Strawberry-tart on top!"_

I roll my eyes. "Haha, very funny," I say into the receiver. "Give up already, Marley. I already told you I can't do it. I'm not available that day anyways, and I told you I'd never dress up as one of those wretched Princesses again. Sorry, but you're on your own for this one."

"But America," Marley cries, "Carter has been planning this date for so many weeks now. I really feel like he's gonna pop the question. Plus, the family wants Princess Ariel! You've got red hair and blue eyes while I've got a crappy-ass wig!"

I burst into laughter, though I do my best to hide the noise by covering the speaker.

"Seriously, Ames. And stop laughing at me. I know that you are."Whoops. _Busted_. "I'm serious when I say that wig is itchy as hell. Why should I have to dress up as Princess Ariel when her literal doppelganger is my best friend?"

I sighed inwardly. She does have a point there.

"Okay. Fine. You win. Where is the party, who is it for, and how much do I get?"

 _"Oh thank God!"_ Marley yells into the phone. I wince and move the phone away from my face and thrumming ear-drums. "This is a good thing, America. Seriously. You need the extra money, right? Well this family is filthy-rich. Or that's what it looks like anyways. The celebrant is six-year old Clary Newsome, daughter of that Super Model Celeste."

"What? No way!"

"Way way! And they're paying a crap ton of money for this. Apparently, Ariel is Clary's favorite Princess _ever_. Her parents are paying a lot of money for me to show up at the party. Or, should I say, _you._ "

"I'LL DO IT!" I shout. "You should've told me this the minute I picked up the phone. You practically wasted a good half-hour of our lives begging me with the words _pretty, please,_ and _strawberry-tarts_."

"Ha! I know right? If I knew you'd cave in that quickly, I would've done it first thing," Marley responds.

"Great, well, thanks for telling me. You have no idea how helpful the money will be."

"Anything to help, America." Marley says.

I sigh, grateful for having such a great best-friend. Going to the party for her may serve as an inconvenience, but I guess you could say it's a blessing in disguise. Celeste Newsome and her husband Nate are known for their out-of-this-world parties, all of which the richest-of-the-rich attend. I know for a fact that they pay a lot of money to make the extravagant parties they throw.

And I also know for a fact that their daughter's birthday is going to be one of the biggest they've ever done.

So if Clary wants Princess Ariel at her party, and her parents want the best fake-Princess at their literal princess's party, then you can bet your bottom hoo-haas that I'll be the best damn fake-Princess I can be.

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I didn't count on the dress being this itchy. Aw, man, and the heels are uncomfortable too!

Dammit.

I stood in the lobby/entrance/ _frontal-inside-area_ of the Newsomes' huge-ass mansion that could've pretty much served as a palace itself (which, by the way, it did, considering that Clary's party is Princess-themed). Celeste and Nate must really love their little girl if they're throwing her this huge, grand party before she turns sixteen. Or eighteen. Whatever. The kid's like six. Who's to say she'll remember this whole party anyway?

Dressed in a fancy light blue dress that quite literally flowed to floor, with a sparkly tiara and diamond earrings Mrs. Newsome chose herself (yes, _the_ Celeste Newsome gave me the whole outfit, stating that she didn't want "Princess Ariel" dressed in a fake-excuse of a Princess gown with plastic earrings to her daughter's party), one would expect me to be the happiest, most grateful fake-princess in the world!

Fuck the moron who said to dress like life is a party! I don't give a crap about whether I'm at a literal party or not. Screw the dress and the heels. I'll take my jeans and sneakers any day!

Albeit gorgeous, the dress had light blue ruffles that literally made my legs itch all over the place, not to mention the fact that the dress was so long I kept stepping on it. Oh, and let's not forget the tight corset I had to wear under this wretched thing, and the heels that I could potentially kill myself with by accidentally tripping and snapping my neck.

Just kidding. I wouldn't do that. Because if I did end up tripping and snapping my neck, it would sure as hell be no accident.

 _Anyways._..

Let's forget about the dress and talk about the fact that my hair is pulled into an extremely tight bun that might as well be slowly but surely ripping off my scalp from the tightness of it. The worst part? That there was never a scene in _The Litter Mermaid, it's prequel, or it's sequel_ , where Ariel is wearing a tight-ass bun. Never. Which means this bun is pretty much pointless! Like, what the hell?!

I will say, though, that the tiara looks mighty fine on me so...

Focus! I came here to do one thing, and one thing alone. Now is not the time to bore imaginary people with my inner monologue and rants. All I've got to do is push that wide-ass door open and gracefully step out into the yard without killing myself by tripping on my heels. I can do this. _Alright..._

Waddling over to the doors leading out into the yard, I take a deep breath, turn my head away, and shove the door open before- _THUMP._

 _"Shit!"_

What. The hell.

Slowly, I turn my head and look around before my eyes scan the floor and spot a man clutching his noise and squinting in pain. "Oh shit!"

Quickly, I run (more like waddle) towards him, accidentally tripping but (hopefully) playing it off as I knelt next to the man and cupped his face in my hands.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I didn't see you there! Did I hit you with the door? What's wrong with your nose?" I pulled his hands away from his face before- " _Oh shit_! There's blood! You're bleeding! Your nose is bleeding!"

Freaking out, I looked around the party for anyone who could help. They all seemed to be minding their own business while this poor man sat there clutching his nose. Seriously, though? What is wrong with these people? This man might as well be bleeding to death!

"Um..uh, what do I do? What do I do?! Gah, I don't know what to-"

" _Will you shut up_?" Angry brown eyes met mine as the man began to stand up, nose still clutched."It's probably just broken. If you'd been paying attention, then maybe this wouldn't have happened. God, the women these days are such idiots."

I took a step back, shocked by his sudden outburst and utter-rudeness. "Well, excuse me. It was an accident. Completely unintentional. And you should've seen me from the other side. Don't tell me this isn't your fault, too."

" _The doors are tinted, smart one._ "

"Well, how could I possibly know that, jerkwad?"

" _Wow, you're so mature._ "

"Yeah. I could say the same thing about you."

 _"You know, you're a rare kind of stupid."_

"And you're a rare kind of douche bag."

The man scoffed, shaking his head and pushing past me. I stood there, boiling in anger and completely still as he walked away. I didn't get a good look at his face, but his golden locks were pretty memorable. Short and trim; a nice and fancy gelled-back look that all of the rich men got going for them.

Yeah, he'd be easy to remember. If I ever run into him again, I'll make sure he isn't looking when I take one of my heels off my foot and stab him in the jugular. Easy target. And so, very-

"Stupid", the man muttered, pulling the door with his free hand and flipping me off with the bloody one.

 _Mother-!_

Gah! Way to start a party.

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 **A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know what you think about it in the reviews! I'll also do a cool little thing where I'll ask you guys questions and you'll give me the answers in the reviews. I'm also open to suggestions and constructive criticism as well.**

 **This chapter's question: What is your favorite novel and who is your OTP in a book/series? I've got a lot, but my main would probably be Abby and Travis from _Beautiful Disaster,_ by Jamie Mcguire. Let me know :D**

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Next chapter: _"So it turns out you can't sufficiently kill a person with a pool noodle, dammit. I guess the spatula will have to do."_


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